Infinitely Losing My Edge
Yeah, I'm losing my edge.
I'm losing my edge.
The kids are coming up from behind.
I'm losing my edge.
I'm losing my edge to the kids from Somalia and from Salvador.
But I was there.
I was there in 1983.
I was there at the first Bronski Beat show in Brixton.
I'm losing my edge.
I'm losing my edge to the kids whose footsteps I hear when they get on the decks.
I'm losing my edge to the internet seekers who can tell me every member of every good group from 1964 to 1971.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Houston and Cairo.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Hong Kong kids in little jackets and borrowed nostalgia for the unremembered nineties.
I'm losing my edge.
I'm losing my edge.
I can hear the footsteps every night on the decks.
But I was there.
I was there in 2001 at the first Tiga practice in a loft in Montreal.
I was working on the theremin sounds with much patience.
I was there when Michael McDonald started up his first band.
I told him, "Don't do it that way. You'll never make a dime."
I was there.
I was the first guy playing Moby Grape to the techno kids.
I played it at Cafe Wha.
Everybody thought I was crazy.
We all know.
I was there.
I was there.
I've never been wrong.
But I'm losing my edge to better-looking people with better ideas and more talent.
And they're actually really, really nice.
I'm losing my edge.
I heard you have a compilation of every good song ever done by anybody.
Every great song by Jeff Mills. All the underground hits.
All Hoover tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Country Teasers record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal grunge hit - 1985, '86, '87.
I heard that you have a CD compilation of every good '50s cut and another box set from the '90s.
I hear you're buying a spring reverb and an oboe and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Jerry Gold Smith record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your clarinet and bought a snare.
I hear that you and your band have sold your snare and bought a clarinet.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Mission of Burma,
The Blues Magoos,
Ossler,
Avey Tare's Slasher Flicks,
Echo & the Bunnymen,
The Slits,
Piero Umiliani,
Gregory Isaacs,
Brothers Johnson,
The Selecter,
The Shadows of Knight,
The Barracudas,
Nils Olav,
Morten Harket,
K-Klass,
Angry Samoans,
Deakin,
Selector Dub Narcotic,
Joe Smooth,
The Gun Club,
Barbara Tucker,
Wally Richardson,
ABBA,
Lou Christie,
Au Pairs,
Oneida,
Prince Buster,
Jeff Lynne,
Nico,
Interpol,
Nick Fraelich,
Q and Not U,
Bobbi Humphrey,
Ralphi Rosario,
The Slackers,
The Red Krayola,
Jesper Dahlback,
Johnny Clarke,
John Lydon,
Marvin Gaye,
John Cale,
New Order,
Tears for Fears,
Ash Ra Tempel,
Susan Cadogan,
Country Joe & The Fish,
The Angels of Light,
Anthony Braxton,
Fifty Foot Hose,
Chrome,
The Durutti Column,
Pole,
the Bar-Kays,
World's Most,
China Crisis,
The Cure,
Wolf Eyes,
Pere Ubu,
Hot Snakes,
Kevin Saunderson,
The Zeros, The Zeros, The Zeros, The Zeros.
You don't know what you really want.
You don't know what you really want.
You don't know what you really want.
You don't know what you really want.
You don't know what you really want.
You don't know what you really want.
You don't know what you really want.
You don't know what you really want.
You don't know what you really want.
You don't know what you really want.
You don't know what you really want.
You don't know what you really want.
You don't know what you really want.
You don't know what you really want.
You don't know what you really want.